The Fox's Wedding: A Hetalia Songfic
by Ariaprincess
Summary: A FrUK retelling of the song "The Fox's Wedding." Rated T at first, but I will change the rating to M if deemed necessary. This is a songfic, FrUK, I do not own Hetalia. Rated T for gore. Kitsune AU! [OLD FIC- DO NOT READ]


_**Okay, first things first, this is not smut. It is a lime, not a lemon, and nothing too...intimate happens. It's mostly gore. Second, yes, I start in the middle of the song, and some of the lyrics are switched around, but other than that, it's a songfic. Okay, enjoy my disgusting work of art!**_

Arthur moaned as Francis placed a flurry of kisses against his neck.

 _ **Aaah, stop it, it hurts, Aaaah, help me please.**_

Fox ears rubbing together as their bodies arced against each other, purring and moaning.

 _ **I don't like the pain, so I'll accept you.**_

Francis smiled affectionately at his mate, whiskers twitching. He purred seductively, licking his lips in anticipation. Arthur smiled back, also eagerly awaiting what was to come.

 _ **Hey, hey, laugh, are you going to skewer me?**_

Arthur rubbed up against Francis, smiling. Then he opened his mouth, revealing a sharp set of pointed fangs, and bit into Francis's neck, drawing blood and nibbling at the tender flesh. He sucked eagerly at the open wound, licking at the hole where the meat used to be. Francis yelped, still not used to the sensation of Arthur's teeth scraping against the tenderness of his open wounds. Arthur lapped up the blood eagerly, scratchy tongue gathering each small drop of red plasma. When the wound was clean, Arthur wiped his lips gently, then slid out of the bed, tail dragging behind him. Francis watched him leave the bedchamber, sighing, then went to treat the new flesh wound.

 _ **Born in the capital, I was bound and brought up.**_

 _Francis watched with bored eyes as another suitor attempted to woo his heart, a young boy named Matthew. Scanning him up and down, Francis thought the boy had a nice figure, but he looked weak. No use for what he wanted. With a sigh, he waved the young boy away, dismissing him. He adjusted his position on the throne, checked his watch. Only noon._

 _Being the king of the Underworld was not an easy position._

 _ **Who knows how many years passed—by then, I'd**_

 _ **Been played with, I'd degraded and devoured humans.**_

 _Arthur grinned as he bit into the sweet, sweet meat, savoring every bite. His paws scrabbled on the young man's body, tearing open the chest and spraying blood everywhere. He secured the body with his front two appendages, then grabbed a length of intestine with his teeth, chomping a small section out of the organ. He chewed slowly, relishing the chewy texture as well as the look on his victim's face. A look of betrayal, of hurt, of complete and utter pain. He swallowed, then leaned in for another bite._

 _This wasn't enough, he would need a new meal soon._

 _ **Who knows how many years passed—on my birthday,**_

 _ **I found you, and felt so strongly**_

 _Francis yawned as he climbed into his bed to retire for the day. His ears folded and he tucked in his tail, not wanting the soft fur to be mussed. He wanted to bring warmth to the limp sheets; they seemed too lonely without another figure next to him. He needed a queen._

 _He would continue the search tomorrow. Surely, surely there was somebody for him._

" _ **I want to eat you, I want to eat you, I so want to eat you."**_

 _Arthur picked up the flier with a budding interest, his ears twitching._

" _King of the Underworld seeks a Queen to join him, male or female accepted, must be strong, apply at the torii leading to the underworld."_

 _Below this information was a color illustration of a figure. Arthur studied the picture. Long blonde hair, impeccably brushed ears, a slight smattering of stubble on his chin. He had a firm body, well toned and thin, and his tail was a majestic brush of shimmering gold. Arthur licked his lips, eyes peeled on the unmarked skin._

 _He would do, he would do._

 _ **I had seduced you with my own body**_

 _Scratching his ears with a nervous paw, Francis lifted the next application form._

" _Arthur Kirkland, 23, male, bisexual, interests are cooking, sewing, and literature."_

 _Francis studied the picture, smirking slightly. The man was handsome, no doubt about it. Tousled blonde locks, piercing green eyes, neatly folded ears._

" _Send him in, I have a good feeling about this one."_

 _ **And where I nibbled you, I devoured.**_

 _It came as a shock, seeing the king in person. The picture didn't capture all of him very accurately, he was slightly fatter than the image suggested. But more fat meant more meat. Arthur smiled winningly at the prince, tucking his tail in between his legs to show he was passive._

" _Nice to meet you in person, my prince."_

 _ **Come here, come here, come here, to me.**_

 _ **I sleep where the Lady Fox sleeps.**_

 _Francis feels a surge of excitement course through his veins as Arthur slips into the sheets beside him for the first time. He won't get too serious on the first night, he knows that's crass. But a small show of affection won't hurt, right? He leans over and pecks Arthur on the cheek, making the man blush. Arthur smiles, and leans for his neck._

 _He expects kisses, instead he gets fangs._

 _ **Ears, nose, eyeballs, I will leave your intestines for last.**_

 _Arthur sinks his teeth into the poor king's neck, sending a plume of blood spurting over the sheets. He hears the king yelp, and digs deeper. He can feel the victim scrabbling to get away, but he holds tight; he's had years of practice, he's not going to let this one get away. Pulling away, he chews the small lump of meat he was able to tear from his victim, savoring the sweet aromas it offers. Red wine, perfume, filet mignon, candied orange peel, petals of some strange flower. He wants to lean in for another bite, but he doesn't want his prince to run away on the first day. Instead, he licks the man's cheek affectionately, tongue providing a unique sensation of scratchy and soft. He hears a shuddering moan and continues, lapping up the man's nervous sweat and sweet tears._

 _He can smell his fear, and it makes his tail tingle._

 _ **Delicious, delicious, oh, so delicious.**_

" _You like it, don't you?"_

 _Francis hears the man's british accent wash over him, seductive and raspy in one beautiful package. He wants to answer, but he feels the comforting, scratchy texture of tongue to cheek, and instead he flexes his back and lets loose a low, rumbling purr. The man chuckles._

" _It's okay if we continue, right?"_

 _Francis nods, if only to get him to continue lapping up his tears and sweat and oh, it feels delicious._

 _He feels the sensation of blood running down his neck, and he purrs once more._

 _ **I truly have become one with you.**_

 _ **Sucking on your bones, I will love you.**_

 _Arthur quickly laps up the blood running down Francis's neck, not wanting to waste a single drop of the precious liquid. The sweetness intermixes with the sour taste of grapes, the cloying stickiness of honey, the crunch of puff pastry. He can almost taste strawberry on the prince's breath. His tail fluffs out, his fur standing on end, before settling down. The prince shifts positions, facing him. Arthur feels nails running down his waist, and he himself lets out a purr, higher pitched than Francis's, but with more verve. He wants to rip him, to tear him open, to see the red of his blood stain the white sheets in his passion, his fire._

 _ **Come, come, welcome, to the brute's nadir.**_

 _ **You're the lead actor, the new tome for dissection.**_

 _Francis feels him tracing a line down his cheek with one delicate claw, leaving a path of red that Arthur quickly moves over smoothly with his tongue. He can feel the warm fur of Arthur's tail move against his feet, tickling them. He wants to feel that fur on his hands, to stroke it, to brush it, to clip it, to care for it. He nuzzles against Arthur's neck, relishing the sensation of teeth nibbling on his earlobe. He doesn't want this moment to end, wants to live in it forever, being nibbled and caressed as he himself caresses._

 _ **Hey, hey, laugh, are you going to skewer me?**_

 _ **Stop it, stop it**_

 _ **It feels so good**_

 _As dawn breaks, Francis kisses his bride one last time, before sliding out of bed to check the damage._

 _Small teeth marks pepper his neck, a large lump of flesh is missing; there is no blood, Arthur cleans up after himself, like a good boy._

" _What's the matter, don't you like my love bites?"_

 _Arthur smirks at him from the bed, skin unmarked. Francis stares at the lovely creature as he slides out of bed to groom himself gently with his paws. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he heads to the bathroom to find bandages for his neck._

 _They've been living like this for five months, and every night, blood runs down Francis's neck only to be lapped up by the scratchy texture of Arthur's tongue._

 _ **My heart, you know that it is all yours.**_

 _ **In exchange, I will take all of your body.**_

Francis casts an adoring eye on the figure sitting next to him, ears twitching. The man looked so beautiful, sitting with regal authority upon the black throne next to him. Together they rule over the broken corpses of the underworld, king and queen beside each other. Francis adjusts the mask he is required to wear over his face; the king's identity must not be revealed to the corpses. Arthur is not required to wear a mask; he is not as important as the king, but Francis wishes that he could remove the stifling accessory so he may embrace his love. Arthur glances slyly back at him, and wets his lips slightly. He can't wait any longer.

 _ **Climax, pleasure. Everything swirls together,**_

 _ **I'm finally starting to feel a little bit excited.**_

Arthur slides into bed next to Francis once more, warming the chilled sheets with his body heat. He radiates passion, Francis thinks they may finally be ready. As if understanding his thoughts, Arthur nods, a sly smirk gracing his features. Francis snuggles up next to Arthur, kissing his neck with gusto. With a final kiss, Arthur sinks his fangs into Francis's neck, carving the flesh from his body eagerly.

If only they were waiting for the same reason.

 _ **It's okay, don't talk. If you talk, I'll kill you.**_

Francis lets out a small squeak of pain; Arthur isn't holding back. He tries to get closer, but is thrust back with an angry growl, a primal, guttural hiss. Arthur slurps at the open wound, fangs stained a gruesome red.

"What about- I thought-"

"Oh, you thought I meant..." Arthur chuckles, shaking his head with a pitiful smile on his lips.

"You foolish, foolish prince." And with that, Arthur leaps upon the prince's chest and tears it open, spraying a raspberry jet over the pristine white sheets.

 _ **I'm a maggot, the Lord of the Flies**_

 _ **I suck and slurp away at all of your wounds.**_

Arthur scrapes and tears at the unmarked skin, marring it and licking what remains. So long, he has waited so long and so patiently. His fangs meet bone; he has come to the ribcage. He slashes at the meat, tearing at the bones until they splinter and break, he sucks the marrow from the insides, licks the meat from the outsides and tosses the shells away. He purrs, thanking his prince for supplying him with such quality meat to feast upon.

Lick, lick, lick. Don't waste a drop.

 _ **What's wrong, why are you so sad?**_

 _ **So you finally figure out my true colors?**_

Francis screams as his ribcage is splintered, torn away by the man he thought was his lover. A low moan escapes him as Arthur slashes one of his lungs away, biting into the soft tender meat with fervor. He can barely breathe, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much. All he can see is red, he can't move, the pain is blinding him. He tastes his own blood. Arthur places one finger gently to his lips.

"Ssh, my prince, don't struggle."

 _ **I want to eat, to eat, I want to eat lots.**_

 _ **My last glimpse of a human heart,**_

 _ **I will bear and sift and extract and return.**_

Arthur bites into the tender cartilage of Francis's lung, chewing at the rubbery organ meat until the flavor leeches out. He leans down to lap at the blood flowing from his throat as if it were cream. The red liquid dribbles down his chin and drips cloyingly onto the sheets, staining them even further. Francis is dying; he must act quick if he wants the meat to stay fresh. He leans down and takes hold of Francis's heart in his mouth, gripping the bloody mass tight with his fangs. In one swift motion, he jerks the heart from Francis's body, meaty tendrils trailing and spewing red plasma. Francis is crying, blood spewing from his chest, his throat, his mouth, he's coughing and choking. Arthur slowly chews the lump of meat, holding it steady with his hands as he rips and slashes and tears the soft organ. The flavors overwhelm his tongue; so many sensations! Lily flowers, sorrow, melancholy, loss, orange oil, vanilla, white wine, vinegar, passion, lust, it's all so much to take in, he laps and slurps and chews.

 _ **Acquired in exchange for our lost bodies**_

 _ **Our love—black, and half-dream, half-waking,**_

Francis looks at the man, the man who stole his heart, and now was reaping the rewards that came with it, as he lay coughing and spluttering, red blood running down his mutilated corpse. He wants it to be over, but Arthur won't let him die, he can feel his rough fangs running down his skin, tearing it away like gift wrapping. He screams one last time, as the pain blinds him, and he slips into the blackness that waits for nobody.

" _ **Embrace me one last time," I whisper to you.**_

Arthur places one last kiss on Francis's dying lips, as his lovely, darling, dying prince's eyes glaze over. He starts in on the eyeballs, gently ripping them out of their sockets and slurping them down like grapes. They slide easily down the throat, slippery and chewy. He turns his attention back to the unfinished meal before him; he still has the intestines, stomach, liver, kidneys, oh, so much meat. With one final glance at his prince's once handsome, now eyeless and bloody, features, he starts in on his meal.

 _ **Oh Mr. Fox, please don't take an umbrella.**_

 _ **Quick, knit my feelings together, won't you?**_

 _ **A daimyo's procession. Corpses guarding the gate,**_

" _ **Open it? Open, please?"**_

 _ **Oh Mr. Fox, please don't take an umbrella.**_

 _ **Let us retrieve your long lost road to love.**_

 _ **Behind this torii lies my broken, dead body**_

 _ **And the daimyo's procession, the corpse guards.**_


End file.
